


Brothers

by Wild_Roses



Series: Wizarding World One Shots [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brothers, Drabble, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Mother-Son Relationship, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-War, The ghoul in the attic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wild_Roses/pseuds/Wild_Roses
Summary: Molly tells George about the death of her older brothers during the first war.





	Brothers

Dust swirled in the air and Molly flicked her wand at it impatiently. After some minutes of shuffling through an old trunk she pulled out a leather bound book. Molly pressed it briefly to her chest before tucking it under an arm and backing down the attic ladder. She gave the ghoul one last glance as it slobbered on the candy bar she’d given it, before descending the rest of the way and closing the pull-down door with a spell. Since the ghoul had spent several months pretending to be a sickly Ronald, she’d become rather fond of it.

Determinedly she headed down a couple of flights. At the door to the twins’ room she took a deep breath and knocked softly. Every fiber of her being wanted to burst right in and be overbearing, rather than patient. After a moment, the door swung open to reveal George. His hair was greasy, eyes were bloodshot, and he was only wearing boxers.

Molly clucked quietly. “Put on some clothes, dear. We are going outside.”

George shuffled back into his room and silently dressed. He turned back to her, head hanging low. Molly stepped into his room, grasped his hand and led him down the stairs and out the door into the garden. George squinted dismally into the mid-afternoon sunlight.

Swinging the garden gate open, Molly pulled George through, heading to the orchard where the boys would play Quidditch. Once she found a satisfactory patch of shade she plopped on to the ground and looked up until George sighed and sat beside her. 

Molly shifted the leather book so it was partially on George’s lap and flipped it open. She ran her fingers gently across the faded pictures that were taped crookedly across the pages. Three red-headed teenagers laughed in the first one, shoving at each other’s arms. The second photo showed the older boys, who were identical, pressing kisses on the girl’s cheeks. A third photo showed the boys dueling as the girl stood back with her hands disapprovingly propped on her hips. 

“Fabian and Gideon,” Molly whispered. “I miss them terribly, even after all these years.”

George chewed on his lip and looked away from the photographs, staring straight ahead.

“They were so bright… just hilarious and brilliant and full of life and love. They sized poor Arthur up in about a minute and gave him their stamp of approval,” she chuckled quietly. “When they died in the first war… Albus came to our house himself to tell us they’d been so brave, that they’d had one another’s backs.”

George let out a strangled noise. Molly kept going, “My mum hit the ground, dad sank down right next to her and I thought they’d never get up again. I remember thinking… I remember thinking that it was a sort of fucked up blessing that they both died, I was sure that neither one of them could’ve lived without the other. I remember thinking that it would have been such a curse for one of them to have to look in the mirror and see his brother’s face. And I knew- I knew that at least they were there for each other wherever you go after.”

Molly’s fingers trembled, “And I feel guilty now. I feel guilty because I am so damned _grateful_ that you didn’t die alongside your brother, George. It broke my heart to lose my big brothers. It nearly destroyed me to lose Fred. I’m not sure I could have kept going if I lost you too.”

Molly felt George’s shoulders shaking next to her. A sob wrenched itself painfully out her throat and she wrapped her arms around George as he sank into her lap, the photo album sliding to rest in the grass. They held one another as their grief reached a violent peak and began to recede, their sobs fading.

George left his head resting in his mum’s lap, looking out at the orchard as she ran her fingers through his hair and hummed a tune she sang to him as a child.

“I’ve never heard you talk so much about Fabian and Gideon,” he remarked.

“They were part of the reason I was so scared to have you boys join the Order. But I want you to know George- I am so proud of you boys. You and Fred, you are so brave. And you have always brought so much joy into this world. He wouldn’t want you to lose that.”

George pushed himself up to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Molly and entwined his fingers through hers. 

“I won’t Mum.” He picked up the album, “Now, tell me about these photos would you?”

 


End file.
